


Maybe I'm the One Exception

by redqueentheory, Wildgoosery, Woven_Gulch



Series: I'm With the Band [10]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Biting, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Clothed Sex, Discipline, Elf ears: they're still sensitive, Grinding, Hair-pulling, Humiliation, M/M, Minor Injuries, Possessive Behavior, Semi-Public Sex, Sleep Sex, Spanking, bruise kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-08 16:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13462182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redqueentheory/pseuds/redqueentheory, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildgoosery/pseuds/Wildgoosery, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woven_Gulch/pseuds/Woven_Gulch
Summary: Vignettes about an orc and an elf trying each other on for size.(Title from'You Don't Think You Like People Like Me', Alex Lahey).





	1. Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taako is caught out. Brad renews a mark.

It’s his own stupid fault. He doesn’t normally use the employee bathrooms. Why would he, he’s _Taako_ , not some pleb from Property division.

But, but. But he’s standing in the line at the cafeteria, the particularly vicious bruise on his neck hidden by a scarf and the curtain of his hair. It’s out of sight but not out of mind; he can _feel_ it, a slow throbbing ache, pushing itself into his awareness, distracting him from the menu on the board. He collects his lunch but almost immediately discards it without even processing what it is, ducks quickly into the bathroom across the hallway.

It’s empty, and he’s tearing the scarf off and all but flinging it away as he approaches the mirror, pulls his hair back and tips his head to the side, really stares at the bruise. Fights back against the spike of desperate heat, gives in a moment later when he presses tentative fingers to the edge of it, to the line of teeth-marks, can’t help the fractured little noise that slips out between his lips at the pain of it, how it races over his skin, sends his head spinning.

It’s that distraction that leaves him so vulnerable, defenseless, and why all he can do when he hears the cubicle unlock behind him - _should’ve checked, should’ve looked, so_ **_stupid_ ** _-_ is clap a hand to his neck and whirl, eyes wide, to see-

Of course it’s him. Of course.

Brad smirks at him. It’s obvious what Taako is doing here, with his mouth open and his hand clapped over his neck, over the bruise he’d fought to keep; Brad had shrugged at the time, said _on your head, pet,_ and left it.

“Turn around,” Brad says, and Taako just - does, too unbalanced by the unexpected to do anything but comply. He watches the reflection of Brad’s approach, watches him walk straight past Taako, meticulously wash his hands in the basin, shake them off. Take a step back and to the side, right up behind Taako, sliding his hands around his waist. He can’t help the eager prick of his ears, hates the tell.

“It looks worse today,” Brad says, conversationally, his breath skating over Taako’s neck and sending goosebumps running down his spine. He meets Taako’s eyes in the mirror, grins a wolfish grin. “Do you think it’s as bad as it can get?”

“Do I look like a cleric, Bradson?”

“You’ll have to tell me what you look like,” Brad says. “Watch yourself. And tell me if you hear anyone else at the door.” And he bends his face to Taako’s neck, pressing teeth and fangs into the same places with unerring accuracy.

Taako stifles a wail, bites down on his lip hard enough to draw blood as Brad fixes his teeth over the bruise and sucks. Taako stares at himself in the mirror, watches his breathing turn short and sharp, watches the blood rush to his cheeks and turn his skin pinker and pinker. The slow rhythm of Brad’s teeth and tongue over his skin sending slow, lazy pulses of pleasure straight to his cock.

It can’t be more than twenty seconds, but it’s enough for his eyelids to start drooping, a strangled, drawn-out whine building in the back of his throat.

And then he hears the squeak of a hinge.

His eyes fly open again, ears flattening in panic, and he shoves his elbow into Brad’s stomach, turns himself away from the door. He sees a dwarf in the mirror - from maintenance? - but he barely spares the two of them a glance.

Taako bolts anyway, out of the bathroom without looking at Brad, his head still spinning.

He strides down the corridor a ways, finds a spot to prop against the wall and breathe, but- but Brad follows him, more measured; a slow approach, predatory, watching his face.

The orc stops feet away and cocks his head, but his expression is the cold neutrality Taako dreads and anticipates in equal measure.

“When I told you to watch for the door,” he says, quietly. “That meant watch. When I asked you to warn me,” and his volume increases, just enough, “that meant using words, not elbows.”

“Sue me,” Taako snarls, made aggressive by the adrenaline still warring with arousal in his gut. “I panicked.”

“You can make it up to me,” Brad tells him, settling back on his heels. “In my apartment, at six. Wear your cutoffs.”

Taako juts his chin out, but says “Fine,” anyway, and Brad steps closer to him. Taako looks up into his face; takes in how his eyes burn, at odds with the impassive expression, as he reaches out a careful hand and presses a claw into the centre of the bruise.

Taako can’t help a vicious curse, new pain layered over old. Brad smirks at him, pats his cheek, and strides away without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline-wise, this falls somewhere after [Leave It All To Bloom](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12909402).
> 
> SHRUUUUG
> 
>  [@rqtheory_](http://www.twitter.com/rqtheory_)


	2. Picnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brad organizes a picnic. Taako grabs a bite.

"You can't wait?" Taako bites, feeling the scratch of bark on his neck, his shoulders.

  
"Hush. Someone will hear your whining." Brad shoves his fingers into Taako's mouth, sneering, hooking a thumb under his chin. "Suck. And do be good, pet, unless you want it to hurt."

  
Taako flicks his eyes up at Brad, moaning pointedly around his fingers. A flutter of his lashes confirming, yes, yes of course he wants it to _hurt,_ what a silly thing to suggest he _wouldn't._ Brad pulls his fingers from Taako’s mouth, too rough. A drag across his bottom teeth, forcing his jaw open and into a heavy, wet pant.

  
“Down.” Brad watches as Taako sinks down against the tree, bark catching his tank top, pulling it in uneven increments until Taako is sitting on the grass, half his chest bare while he pants and eyes Brad’s crotch, expectant. Watches as Taako tries to hide the pout when Brad kneels with him, knowing now the plan doesn’t involve fucking his face until cum and tears mingle, dripping off his chin.

  
"Hush," Brad repeats, resting his forearm on the tree, hunching over Taako. In the shadow of a tree not too far from the bustling, loud picnic nearby, the screaming and giggling of bureau members' children, the smell of barbecue and smoke. "Pull your shorts down. Just enough, my pet."

  
Taako tenses, hurrying to do as he’s told, biting his lip. Brad can't help but smirk. "Did you like that?"

  
"What?" Taako’s eyes are blown wide, ears flattened back.

  
"My pet," Brad emphasizes quietly, watching Taako flush as if on cue. A searing red that fills his cheeks and ears too perfectly. "Answer me."

  
"Y-yes." Taako keeps his eyes somewhere on Brad's chest or stomach, squarely set ahead so he doesn't have to look him in the eyes.

  
"Yes _what."_

  
"Yes I. I liked it."

  
"Liked _what?"_

  
Taako swallows, shutting his eyes, hooking his thumbs into his shorts. He pulls them down with a nervous wiggle. "When you called me.” He pauses, taking in a breath, shuddering and weak. “Yours."

  
Brad feels a flutter in his chest, the same one that brought him here, caused by Taako earlier. Taako, and his perfect white shorts, in stark contrast to his dark, freckled skin. Taako, sunburn red in places he hadn’t thought to put on sunscreen, too used to the way the dome on the Moonbase protected them all from the sun’s harmful rays. A blooming red in the tips of his ears and back of his neck. Taako, laughing, plastic solo cup in hand. A sound that made Brad’s normally immobile ears lift and flick back. Clumsy and-- _ugly,_ frankly, but.

  
Brad’s chest flutters again. He buries it, again, refusing to examine the reaction. Focusing instead on the desperately panting elf in front of him, his pretty pink tongue, his lips shiny with spit. Unable to determine where the sunburn ended and the blush began on his face.

  
He inhales, sharp and short, hooking his hand under Taako's ass, prodding his middle finger against him and then in despite instinctive, clenching resistance. A resistance at odds with the pleasured whine Taako emits, throwing his head to the side, his back arching. "Rather rude to make me have to fuck you _here,_ pet, when I have so much to do today. I won’t be able to."

  
Taako nods, clumsy and dumb, eyes still shut as he tries to steady his breath. His cock is already hard, just from the teasing; just from Brad cornering him, earlier, by a picnic table to whisper heavy into his ear that they should get a little _fresh air_ together.

  
"I still want you to come." Brad smirks, curling his finger inside of Taako, knowing exactly where to press now. Taako sinks his hands into the grass, gasping sharply, resisting the urge to fuck himself on Brad's fingers. "Hush."

  
"I-I'm trying."

  
"Hush," Brad hisses, crueler now. "It's bad enough you're moaning, do you have to run that pretty little mouth too?" He lifts his other hand, shoves his thumb against his tongue and Taako's sucking before he can even give the order. "That's it, pet."

  
He strokes under Taako’s chin, gentle, at odds with the way he's finger fucking Taako relentlessly. A second finger joins the first, a pain that stretches Taako, a width he’s unprepared for, the saliva a poor substitute for lube.

  
He moans around Brad's thumb, leans his head forward, trying to choke on it.

  
Brad's breath hitches. And as he tries to fit a third finger in, he feels Taako’s razor sharp fangs sink into his thumb. Blood mixing with the drool that pools on the swell of Taako’s lower lip, too heavy and falling in fat, heavy droplets onto Taako’s white shorts. Brad feels the punctures burn, and grunts a wordless sound out his nose before pressing down viciously hard on Taako’s prostate.

  
Taako comes with a muffled whine, and as soon as Brad's fingers are removed he lets his jaw slacken so Brad can pull his hand back and inspect the damage.

  
"You little monster," Brad says tone neutral, looking the vicious ring of teeth marks over. Taako pants, full body, too satisfied to be apologetic yet. Instead he tips forward and kisses the back of Brad’s hand, clumsy and almost too hard.

  
Brad's already _hummed_ the injury away, wiping blood from from his skin with his fingers, the wounds zippered up. Taako presses another kiss to his knuckle, shakily hooking his hands around Brad's upturned palm. "S-sorry."

"Hmm." Brad wrinkles his nose, grateful it's hard for a blush to show on his face. There's that fluttering again, an irritating fondness that keeps creeping up on him against his wishes. "Monstrous little thing."

  
"Sorry. I'm sorry." Taako looks up at him, puppy dog eyes and a fluttering of his lashes. The ruined mascara dripping down his cheek makes it so much harder to stay angry, to weaponize this against him. "Didn’t mean it, you know?"

  
Brad grimaces, reaching up to brush back Taako’s hair. "I know, pet."

  
Taako's ears flick up, expectantly, even as he winces into the head pat.

  
"... _My_ pet," Brad amends, almost kindly. "Clean yourself up."

  
"Mmhmm."

  
"As soon as I’m done with this event, I'm taking you home and making you _pay_ for this. Am I clear?"

  
"Mmhmmmm." Taako leans back against the tree, giggling dreamily, as Brad gets to his feet. "Thank you."

  
Brad is already heading back to the picnic, scrubbing his face with his hands. He needs a beer. He might need _two._ Something to get the sound of breathless giggling out of the forefront of his brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure where this falls timeline wise. Probably after [Leave it All To Bloom](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12909402), but before [In Your Arms I’ll Fall (All The Way To Hell)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13240599).


	3. Tally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taako has a revelation. Brad gives him some feedback.

It’s a sign of just how far things have escalated for Taako that it’s when things are ordinary that he starts to get suspicious.

Not that there’s anything wrong with ordinary.

Definitely nothing wrong with it, he thinks faintly to himself, as Brad’s hand curls around to press fingertips into his chest, easing him back towards Brad’s own chest, on to his cock. Crooning in his ear, that same sweet low tone that seems like a kindness until Taako actually listens to the words, to Brad mocking him for being desperate and needy and wanton. It’s mostly true, too, comes the vaguely unwelcome thought, as he slowly pushes backwards, panting, his own cock going untouched. His thighs, spread wide, to either side of Brad’s own, the burn of the stretch a welcome distraction from the ache as Brad fills him.

But it seems so - normal. So easy.

Too easy.

“You’re doing quite well,” Brad murmurs - Taako can hear the smirk in it - and flicks his ear with a precise finger. Taako yelps, tenses up; there’s a small chiding noise and Brad says, “Now now, don’t undo all the progress we’ve made here with such an unnecessary setback.”

It strikes him, then, that this is a deliberate provocation -- a test. He’s antsy as it is, so habitual defiance bubbles to the surface, a sudden throb of excitement as he seizes the chance. “Fuck off,” he grits out.

Brad grabs his ponytail and yanks, so immediate he must have been waiting for it, and Taako’s head is suddenly bent back at an angle, throat exposed.

“Be polite,” Brad hisses at him, and pulls down harder on his hair as he leans in to bite at Taako’s shoulder. Not a playful bite but a real one; Taako’s focus narrows down to the places he can feel Brad’s teeth pierce his skin, the sudden throbbing of his own pulse oozing out of the puncture marks, the rush of pain-induced adrenaline making him dizzy. It feeds into the heat pooled in his gut, a feedback loop of pain and pleasure escalating too quickly to do anything more than pant.

There’s a wail building in Taako’s throat when Brad shifts and pulls down on his hip and that’s it, he’s bottoming out and Taako is really, absolutely wailing, neglected cock pulsing. Brad’s bite loosens, and the hand in Taako’s hair does as well, before reappearing at his other hip, holding him down as though Brad could somehow go any deeper. Suddenly relieved of the pressure of holding his own weight, Taako’s thighs start to tremble; he tries to hold them solid, has to let go. The humiliation burns hot at the back of his throat, warring with how much he _wants-_

“Well, pet,” Brad says, but at least he also sounds short of breath. “We got there in the end.” Taako tips his head back onto Brad’s shoulder, feels his chest slide against Taako’s back as he breathes. Brad leans slightly to the side, collects something; the next thing Taako knows his hand is being wrapped around - something metallic, round, that-

_jingles-_

“What the fuck,” he manages, before Brad casually cups a hand around his throat. He doesn’t put any pressure behind it, but the promise is there, and Taako finds himself, for once, without a smart comment.

“I’ve got a few areas of improvement I’d like to address with you,” Brad tells him. “You should know I keep track of your… infractions.”

“What’s this for,” Taako manages, shakes his hand. The bell tinkles, so cheerily at odds with what they’re doing here that he wants to laugh. Can’t.

“If you can’t speak,” Brad says, quietly. “If you can’t say anything and you want me to stop. Drop it.”

Taako feels a rush of - something too selfish to be true gratitude, but he croaks out a ‘Thanks,’ anyway.

The hand around his throat presses down, just barely, not enough to interrupt his breathing but certainly enough to let him know Brad is in control of it. “Now,” Brad says, and settles himself into place, rolling his hips once so Taako feels the full length of him. Taako exhales on a pitiful little moan and Brad presses down, harder this time, enough to make his next breath a strain, to make him work to suck in enough oxygen. He feels - faint, a degree removed from what’s happening, but something about it turns the pulse of arousal in his gut stronger, sends his blood pounding through him faster, hotter.

The hand loosens again as soon as he starts to breathe out. “Now,” Brad says, again, casually presses in next to one of the bite marks on his shoulder with a claw, making Taako struggle and try to pull away again. “Let’s start with tardiness.”

“Are you fucking-“ Taako starts, and is cut off by Brad’s hand, pressing up against his throat; not hard, but enough.

“Hmmm,” Brad says, mock-thoughtful. _His hand is so big_ , Taako thinks, crazily. “Perhaps I should have started with you interrupting me.”

He lets go, and Taako sucks in a breath, chest heaving with the relief of it. “What is your _problem_ , Bradson?” he says, but it comes out all wrong, a rasping scrape.

Brad hums again. “My problem is that I’m fucking a painful little brat,” he says, and it’s so _disappointed_ , as though Taako is some sort of - student, failing his homework. It’s humiliating, and Taako instinctively tries to put distance between them to snarl something irritated in reply, but all he manages to do is press against Brad’s hand over his throat and he’s slumping backwards away from it before he can think about it. “I do keep a tally, as I said, of your infractions.”

“Infractions,” Taako repeats, sneering. “What counts as an _infraction_ , exactly?”

“When you break the _rules_ ,” Brad says silkily into his ear; Taako clamps down hard on the instinctive twitching. “You should know that, pet.”

He’s so close, so close to taking the bait again; saying something bitchy, forcing Brad’s hand. But they’re here, now, and for all of Brad’s pushing Taako is still desperate for him to relent and just _fuck_ him, so for the time being he takes the easier path - though it feels foreign, strange - and says, “I understand,” in a small voice.

There’s a short pause behind him, and Taako thinks he can sense surprise; Brad says, “Oh, _good_ boy,” and the hand on his throat strokes down his chest to tweak at a nipple as Brad sucks a bruise into his neck; murmurs “ _Very_ good,” when Taako’s head falls back onto Brad’s shoulder and his mouth falls open in a gasp.

“You see,” Brad continues, claws raking gentle circles over Taako’s chest. “I’m very happy to reward good behaviour.” Taako manages a small noise of assent. “The problem is, positive reinforcement only works if it’s not _indiscriminate_.” He sighs. “And it’s very important to address performance issues before they become _entrenched_.”

By now, Taako’s certain this is a game. Brad is trying to get a rise out of him because he’s is as invested in Taako acting out as Taako is in being hurt for it, and if that doesn’t equally piss him off and send his pulse thundering with how much he wants it–

“Are you seriously doing this? Now?” he says, and feels Brad shake his head.

“You were doing so well, pet,” he says, and suddenly the fingers on Taako’s nipple aren’t pleasant any more; too tight, painful, though his traitorous cock jumps at the sensation anyway. “And now, backtalk.”

Taako says, “I’m sorry,” as blandly as possible, because the game’s not fun unless he’s unpredictable.

“I really don’t think you are.” Not unpredictable enough, apparently. “Which brings me to dishonesty, insubordination, rudeness… truly, you’re lucky I’m so kind to you.”

Taako can’t let that pass without comment, scoffs. “Kindness? Is that what it is?”

There’s another pause, and then - a sharp, sudden rake of claws down his chest; Taako gasps in protest, feels blood well in the scratches, and then the hand on his throat clamps down hard and there’s absolutely no question in his mind that he’d be unable to draw breath, if he tried. He writhes anyway, struggling within Brad’s grip even as he keeps his hand clamped tight around the bell.

“Oh, pet,” Brad croons in his ear. “If you wanted me to be crueler you only needed to ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place not long after [With Wires.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12633213)
> 
> As always - immense help from the team on this, I'm endlessly grateful.


	4. Meow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brad lays down a few rules. Taako keeps his mouth shut.

"You're such a pretty little thing, pet." Brad smirks, watching Taako try not to squirm on the floor -- his knees pinched in together, his breath unnaturally steady. 

Brad trails a finger across the shell of one of his sensitive, Elvish ears, watching it try to flick away before Taako  _ fights _ that instinct and manages to keep it still. "Oh whatever am I going to do with you?"

Taako opens his mouth to snap back with some remark, and remembers, belatedly, that he was ordered not to make a sound. That the silencing spell on Brad's office is temporarily down, and that his whimpers, his moans, would slide out and under the door, or through the air vents. Instead, he licks his lips. 

"Greedy," Brad muses. "Not even thinking about  _ my _ needs, are we." He stops, pauses. Regards Taako coldly. "Strip."

Taako's hands fly to the buttons of his blouse, rapidly loosening them, just shy of ripping them open. He shimmies it off his shoulders and looks down at his legs. Viciously, painfully asleep beneath him after being made to wait, a punishment for showing up late. A punishment he was counting on. 

Still. It makes standing difficult. He shifts his hips up and steals a glance at Brad, whose expression has not changed. 

He manages with some difficulty to unzip the skirt and pull it up, over his torso and head, before sitting back on his feet. 

Brad places a hand to his cheek, looking him over. "Thigh highs," he says, not a question. "How darling."

Taako can't help but smile, shrugging innocently as he runs his nails across the deep maroon nylon. A gentle  _ zzzzip _ of claws against fabric, stopping at his thighs. His crotch already bare, erect and unashamed about it. 

"To your feet." Brad turns to his desk, starts putting things aside as Taako struggles to obey, his legs useless and pained. Every inch of them screams not to stand but he manages, somehow, to stumble over to the desk and grip it before he loses his composure. 

Brad takes a proper look at him, trailing a teasing finger up the back seam on his leg. "You're gorgeous," he mutters, sounding just a little more sincere than he'd usually like. The heat it brings to Taako's face is charming, though. A bashful, beet red that he tries to hide by turning to face away. Brad catches himself staring, and clips out a fast "Palms and elbows on the desk," to change the subject. 

Brad spits into his hand. "Did you prep yourself, pet?"

Taako nods, glancing over his shoulder, at Brad and then at the door. Nervous, now. If he was being face fucked he could quiet himself enough that being heard wouldn't be an issue. But it would be notably more difficult, with this. 

A finger sinks into him, to test if he’s lying. He startles but makes no sound, fingers arching and bone white on the desk. Keeping to the order of  _ palms _ flat on the desk, even though all he wants to do is clench his fists. 

"Well enough," Brad mutters, not really to Taako, as he pulls the finger out. He spends a slow, agonizing moment undoing his belt, the clink and clatter of metal sending a visible chill up Taako's spine. 

And Brad hums, placing a hand on Taako's backside, gentle, before striking him with a flat, open palm. The sound rings out, but Taako does little more than  _ inhale. _ The second strike comes just as quick, to the other side, and Taako is better at handling this one. 

Brad smirks. "Good boy." He thumbs at Taako’s ass, pulling him apart far enough so he can press himself in, watching Taako’s ears flick up and back and up again in anticipation. 

"Keep your legs together," Brad muses, feeling up one of his legs. "This is a good look for you, pet."

Brad's being cruel, pushing into him without finesse or grace. He pulls back and fucks in with the same passionless rut, talking as if he wasn't burying his cock into Taako's barely-prepped ass. "You're such a pretty little thing when you want to be." He massages a hand up Taako's other leg; sinks his fingers into Taako's thighs bruisingly, crushingly hard so that he can keep him still. So that he can fuck him properly. 

Taako lets his head fall forward, forehead nearly touching the desk as he bites back moans and whimpers. His cock goes ignored, the two of them knowing that Brad's relentless thrusts into him would be enough to bring him to the edge. It always is. A deliciously embarrassing, shameful reality, but Taako can't help it. 

A gasp escapes him, and instantly Brad's hand flies up to swat his ass. "Not a sound."

The strike causes a clench around Brad that nearly pushes  _ him _ into orgasm, regrettably early, but he manages to hold back for a bit longer.

"Pet," Brad purrs, and that alone almost draws a whine from Taako, a greedy, needy sound that wants out. Brad's slapping painfully hard against him now, hunched over the length of Taako easily, face pressed into the crook of Taako's neck. Murmuring out another affectionate  _ pet _ that sets Taako's skin on fire and makes him shiver uselessly. 

Brad presses a kiss to his shoulder, and then another, an adoring  _ pet _ whispered between each one. Taako knows it's cruel, that Brad is doing it just to make him make noise, but he eats it up. Devours it, savors it, footage to replay in the middle of the night when he's alone. When he wants nothing more than to crawl onto Brad's lap and have his hair pet back, his forehead kissed, that word murmured into his skin 

A whine escapes him and just as quick, he's struck again, and the strike brings his orgasm which brings another sound and another slap. 

Brad buries himself into him, grunting, breath hot Taako's bared neck. Yellow hair shoved aside to the other shoulder. And then, there it is. The first of Brad's hot, too thick cum pumping into him before it mingles with the next, until Brad is done and laying heavy over him. 

"Pet," he rumbles, in Taako's ear. Pressing a kiss there. "You did better than I expected."

The ear flicks at his attention; Taako pants as quietly as he can pant. 

"Good boy," Brad continues, hands at Taako's outer hips. Feeling him up, greedily. Brad kisses him again, on his shoulder. "Such a good boy. You're so good for me, kitten."

Taako bites back a smile and shifts, trying to lean his shoulder into the kisses there. He sighs out his nose and lets out a cheeky  _ meow, _ earning a strike, and a smirk. But. 

But he couldn't be more deliriously, impossibly happy if he tried.


	5. Morning Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taako tells an obvious lie. Brad makes him work for it.

Surfacing slowly from sleep is a weekend luxury for Brad, and today is no exception. The difference is that today, the languid climb into wakefulness is punctuated by pulsing arousal, low in his belly, the reason for which becomes apparent when he cracks open an eye to see Taako braced over his abdomen, mouthing at his half-hard cock.

"Good morning," Brad says, voice raspy with sleep, and slides a hand into Taako's hair - not to tug or pull but to take a firm hold, to tuck his knuckles in against Taako's scalp, feather soft hair out between his fingers. "This is unexpected."

Taako's mouth slides off his dick with a soft wet noise. "I'm unpredictable." He's stretched out on the bed, knees tucked beneath himself but splayed wide, just enough of an arch to his spine that Brad can see the soft swell of his ass. He pulls just slightly out against Brad's grip on his hair, and Brad loosens his hand immediately.

"Ah-ah, pet," he murmurs. "None of that. Take what you're given."

The look Taako gives him then is a truly impressive performance; all enticing eyes and slightly downcast mouth, ears dipping in entreaty, rolling his shoulders to exaggerate the curve of his back. " _ Please _ ?"

It's a blatant attempt at manipulation, and he'll regret rewarding something so obvious in the long run. He really should laugh and let go entirely, link his hands together behind his own head and tell Taako not to be so greedy, that he won't touch him until Taako delivers on the promise he's made. But it is very sweet that he's trying so hard, eyes dark and wide to make himself look guileless, so Brad just huffs a small breath and says, through a faint smile, "Be a good boy and I'll pull harder."

Taako's eyes droop half-closed and he breathes "I'm always good," over the head of Brad's dick before he curls a hand around it and tongues gently at the slit, lapping at the pre-cum he finds there.

Brad laughs at little at the bald-faced lie. "What a short memory you have," he says, enjoying the heat curling slowly in his gut at the sight of Taako's wet, pink tongue on his cock, wallowing in the desire, idle but growing, to rock his hips up, push himself against Taako's lips and into his mouth. "How many instances of backtalk were there the last time we settled your tally, pet?"

Taako seals his lips over the head and sucks, softly, with a small shrug. His eyes are trained on Brad's face through downcast lashes, and a slow flush spreads over his cheeks and out to his ears as Brad looks back at him; Brad can't help himself, reaching down with his other hand to press his thumb along the path of the blush. "You know there were four," he says, gently reproachful.

Taako's gaze drops, and his tongue presses at the underside of Brad's cock as he takes it further into his mouth, stretching wide, too wide to properly seal, spit and precum starting to leak from the corners. It always goes straight to his dick to see that, and again he pushes down on the impulse to thrust up into Taako's mouth, down his throat. "Don't be coy."

He curls his spare hand around the back of Taako's neck and grips it; Taako moans around him, wet and choked, and pushes back against Brad's hand. "Oh, I see," Brad breathes. "You want me to hold you in place? Fuck up into your mouth?" Taako moans again. "Too bad," he says, firmly. "You started this, pet. You can finish it." He releases Taako's neck to push himself up into a sitting position, legs propped wide as he curls over the elf to seize both of his ears and tug backwards, which makes Taako yelp and his eyes water, mouth lax, a mess of saliva and precum sliding out over his bottom lip.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweet thing," Brad coos at him, releasing his grip and pushing both hands, this time, into Taako's hair. "You can pick up where you left off, can't you?" It's harder for Taako to look up at him now, straining his head at an angle as he slides his mouth back down Brad's cock. He gives it his best shot, fluttering his eyelashes and moaning, stroking with his hands what he can't get in his mouth. "That's it, that's good," Brad murmurs, scratching fingernails sharply across the back of Taako's skull. Taako chokes, swallows around him. "Use your tongue." He feels the press of it, the slick slide as Taako slowly works at him, steadily more slippery with drool. "That's good, just like that."

He breaks eye contact with Taako then, letting his head tip back, allowing his hips to twitch just the tiniest bit. It would be so easy, so simple just to pull Taako down towards his abdomen, roll his hips up to fuck his face. But it's not what he's set out to do here, so he contents himself with the tiniest twitches, which Taako accepts greedily, making hungry, pleading sounds every time. Pleasure spirals lazily higher; Brad pulls back gently on Taako's head every time momentum starts to build, letting intensity dissipate before building again, keeping the pace languorous and steady.

Towards the end he gives in to the pull and starts thrusting his hips up. Just a little, just enough to really give Taako something to work against, a reward for his patience. Taako breathes hard through his nose and swallows, and it's that hotsoft pulse of pressure which tips Brad over. "Ready?" He manages, strained, as he starts to come and pulls firmly downward on the back of Taako's head, letting go this time, letting himself rock up into Taako's mouth and holding him there. Taako swallows around him, more than once, but when Brad finally pulls back hard on his hair, Taako gasps for breath and Brad can still see cum on his tongue, smeared on his lips, before he swallows again, blushing at Brad's openly appreciative stare.

"That's good," Brad says once he gets his breath, pulling Taako up and kissing him, tasting himself on Taako's tongue. "Very good, my pet."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this the most vanilla sex that exists in this verse? Probably.
> 
> Thanks to Goose for the beta!


	6. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taako debuts an accessory. Brad settles a debt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place the morning after [In Your Arms I'll Fall (All The Way To Hell)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13240599)

Taako has an appointment. Tomorrow, three thirty. Which usually means a long, lazy fuck, an hour or hour-and-a-half spent pulling Taako apart piece by piece until he’s a useless, boneless panting mess on Brad’s desk. 

But. 

_But_. Brad has an open door policy. 

So he waits. He waits and watches as Charity puts through Brad’s calls and he takes his meetings, as a stream of Bureau employees file in and out of his office. Sometimes just to drop off some forms. Other times they stay a few minutes, chat. Taako can picture the HR smile Brad used to send his way, tight and false. 

Pictures it now, fresh in his mind from Sunday night, when Brad sent him on his way after fucking him for a full forty-eight hours. 

He pops his gum, makes a flash of eye contact with Charity as she buzzes him in. Says his name wrong, _again_ , mouth curling up into a devious smirk that she doesn’t bother to try and hide. 

Brad doesn’t bother looking up from a clipboard, still scratching away. “Your appointment is tomorrow.”

“I know.” Taako closes the door, pointedly doesn’t lock it as he strides into the room. Places on Brad’s desk a coffee and a paper bag. “Breakfast.”

Brad side-eyes the bag, uses his pen to peek into it. Taako feels a thrill of— _something_ , victory maybe, when he smirks and says “Very cute.”

“I _know_ ,” Taako repeats, plopping down in the chair in front of Brad’s desk. Takes a swig of his own coffee. “You never texted me back.”

“I never check that spell. If it’s important you can call me and leave a voicemail.” Brad picks his Stone of Farspeech up from the corner of his blotter, its usual spot while he’s at work, and flicks open the spell with his thumb. This bit Taako didn’t expect, and he fidgets with the lid of his coffee cup while Brad takes much too long to read three fucking words. 

Brad replaces the Stone on his desk, a crease between his brows but face otherwise the same as he picks up his pen and starts writing. “Are you well?”

“Jesus. So serious. Yeah I’m _fine_.” Taako puts a foot on the edge of the desk. “Are _you_ well?”

“I’m working,” Brad says, eyes on his papers. 

“You’re the worst.” Taako wiggles his foot, willfully distracting. “You said you wanted to get breakfast and talk and now you’re ignoring me.”

“You know how I feel about these temper tan—“ Brad places the pen down with purpose and looks up over his glasses; chokes on that last word.

Taako smirks, legs spread lewdly, hand pressed flat against the skin of his chest, bared by his shirt’s deep vee. Pointedly drawing attention to the maroon silk choker around his neck. “Yes?”

Brad laughs. At first a blurt of disbelief, startled out of him, which then melts into something he tries in vain to fight by covering his mouth with his hand. 

And Taako realizes, abruptly, that he’s never _seen_ Brad laugh. That he’s seen him sneer and smirk and chuckle, velvet control purred into his neck while he’s fucked raw and thorough, but never this. He pulls his foot off the desk and can’t help but giggle. “Holy shit.”

“Pet,” Brad says, too stiffly; not quite managing gruffness. “That’s a very bold—“

“Appointment’s _tomorrow_ , Chief, relax. You’re off the clock.” Taako flips his hair back as he stands up. “Put it on my tab or whatever.”

“Tally,” Brad corrects, automatic, then presses his lips together. “Did you already own...that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Taako drawls. He leans forward, palms on the desktop. “Good call on the color, by the way. Matches all kiiiiiiiiiiinds of things.”

“Does it.”

“Mmmmmhmmmmm,” Taako hums, grinning crookedly. Enjoying the subtle deeping of the green on Brad’s face, the tension in his neck, all the little cracks he’s learned to pick out in that solemn Orcish facade. 

Brad lifts the stack of papers, taps them tidy between two hands, then looks up at Taako again as he sets them in a tray. “Did you have any business aside from pastry delivery and cheek?”

Taako wills his ears to stay casual. “Well you seemed so fuckin’ worried, thought I’d pop in and you know.” A shrug as he stands up straight again. He fingers the choker without even meaning to be horny, catches himself, flashes a quick grin to make it all seem intentional instead of just something to do with his hands. “Anyway, like I said. I’m fine.”

“Fine?” Brad echoes, recovered now.

“I didn’t.” Taako gestures, vague. “That. Thing that happened once.”

“All right.”

“Slept okay, gonna head to practice after this, all good,” Taako says, breezy. “So you don’t have to...you know, you don’t gotta do anything, we’re square.”

“Mmm.” Brad folds his hands; eyes the paper bag, the cup of coffee. “Actually, pet, I appear to be very slightly in your debt.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Come here,” Brad says, in a tone which Taako’s disinclined to argue with.

Brad turns in his chair as Taako circles around the desk, taking his time, trying not to seem too eager. And as soon as Taako’s near enough, Brad reaches up to cup the back of his neck, to pull him roughly down until their faces are level. Lifts the other hand to hook a finger through the ribbon of silk around his throat and tug it aside. Meets Taako’s eyes for a smoldering moment before he leans in, quick and efficient, to nip at the skin he’s just exposed. Hard enough that Taako knows, from extensive experience, that he’ll find a perfect blue-black oval there when he’s able to escape to a bathroom to check.

“That should settle us, I think,” Brad rumbles, close to Taako’s ear.

And in the next breath he’s straight and forward-facing again, all business, reaching for another file. Asks casually, not looking up, “Tomorrow at three thirty?”

Taako swallows; can’t help but press his fingertips to newly tender skin. “Yeah.”

“If you want to wear the genuine article again,” Brad continues, now scrawling out figures on a notepad, “you’ll be on time.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Taako says, giving too much ground but unable to think of anything else. He grabs his own coffee and holds it strategically, hoping it’s enough to cover what all of this is doing to him. 

He’ll be on time for their “appointment” tomorrow, yeah. Abso-fuckin-lutely.

But he’s gonna be at least ten minutes late to practice today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to RQT for the quick beta!
> 
> Goose would also like to thank Mu for having written the drabble that started this -- Goose had fun running with it, sure, but Mu already had the ball halfway down the field. Also please excuse this clumsy sport metaphor from a person who basically never sports.


	7. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brad makes a discovery. Taako gets an endearment.

Brad is very glad that Taako has his eyes shut.

He hadn't expected their post-session debriefs to be quite so affecting. He’s the one who insisted on them, of course, partly because he was finally being responsible and partly because he just wanted to see Taako squirm. Which he did, at first; hesitant and awkward about admitting to _enjoying_ the things they were doing, as though that wasn't the whole point.

Recently, though. Taako has become… brazen, almost stubbornly so, and Brad has been forced to admit to himself that he enjoys that just as much. Revels in the space it gives him to focus less on coaxing admissions out of Taako and more the flushed-but-determined look on his face and the particular thickness of his voice as he outlines for Brad just precisely how being slapped over the mouth had turned him on.

So Brad had known he was going to enjoy it but hadn't quite anticipated how much; found himself struggling to project his usual indifferent calm, a small, sly part of his mind thinking about another slow, deep fuck up against the wall.

But it’s not the right time, and Taako’s eyes are closed, so he lets himself stare openly at the elf’s face - at the reddened skin where Brad’s hand connected, at the small bloody cut on his lip, on his expression, slack and relaxed and blissful.

It’s remarkable, the urge to be cruel and the urge to be tender so finely balanced in his head that Brad can’t quite do anything but run his hands over Taako’s head. He’s sure it must show, so he keeps his face canted slightly away just in case, running his claws gently through Taako’s hair.

There’s a small sigh, and Taako shifts, turns slightly towards him, eyes still shut. “S’nice.”

Brad hums, non-committal, but he does dig his claws in slightly on the next pass; Taako’s lips part with a tiny noise and he presses back further.

“Greedy,” Brad says, but his voice comes out wrong, and he thumbs hurriedly at Taako’s lip to cover it. Taako whines, and the noise winds his own nerves tighter, focus narrowing.

He clears his throat, turns his thoughts to practical matters before he can really work himself up. “I’m going to heal your face, pet.”

“‘Kay.” Taako doesn’t move at all.

Brad cups Taako’s cheek in his palm, strokes his thumb along the cheekbone, humming. The injuries are minor so it doesn’t take a lot, but he finds himself reluctant to stop. He indulges himself; brings up both hands, traces fingertips along the lines of Taako’s face, his eyebrows, his lips and jaw. Taako’s breathing slows and he relaxes bonelessly into the mattress, before a small, buzzing hum starts up in the quiet.

A hum that Brad can feel, vibrating near his thigh. He tries not to react, keeps stroking, until it hits him - Taako is _purring._

He bites the inside of his cheek to contain himself, subtly drags the heel of his hand over Taako’s jaw, brushing against his throat. Grins to himself, the vibration clear and obvious here.

“Pet,” he says, when he’s sure.

Taako says “Mmmmph,” without opening his eyes. The purr continues.

“Are you purring?” Brad says, letting his voice turn mocking, slightly cruel, at odds with the still-gentle movement of his hands.

Taako stiffens, and Brad is gearing up to tease when all of a sudden he relaxes again. The purring hasn’t stopped. “Ugh, I don’t care enough to pretend,” Taako slurs under his breath. “ _Yes_ , I can't help it, you a racist, Bradson?”

Brad stifles a grin. “That’s a serious accusation, pet,” he says instead, tone bland. “You’ll have to fill out a form to make a formal complaint, if you can manage to hold the pen between your paws.”

Taako’s eyes crack open to glare. “You’re not as clever as you think you are.”

“You’re nowhere near as threatening as you try to be,” Brad counters, and then, without thinking, “your teeth aren’t that sharp, kitten.”

Taako groans quietly without opening his eyes. “God, really? You’re gonna push that one, huh?” He’s trying for disdain but not quite making it, the sudden pinkness to the tips of his ears and the way he turns his face to press against Brad’s thigh putting paid to the act.

Brad leans down, murmurs, “Tell me you don’t like it, _kitten_ ,” directly into his ear.

Taako shudders. Mumbles, “Gods, I hate you,” and finally cracks an eye to look back up at Brad. “I. I do like it.”

Brad is _certain_ the rush of gleeful satisfaction shows on his face. “Well then, I’ll have to reserve it for when you’re good.”

“I _have_ been good,” Taako says, sulky.

He knows he shouldn’t but Brad gives in to the urge to indulge him, tells himself he’ll be crueler next time to balance things out. “That you have,” he says, scrapes claws over Taako’s scalp and adds, “kitten,” again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to Goose for the beta!
> 
> This one was originally a follow up to [Split](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12706188) and is still a reply to it in my heart, but falls somewhere after [Meow](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13462182/chapters/31085976) in the timeline.


	8. Instruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taako makes a demand. Brad gives him what he asks for.

Taako lets his hand wander, turning the page of the gossip rag - two months old now, but new to him, another unforeseen annoyance of living on the moon - and then continuing on, letting his palm slide over the warm, bare thigh his head is resting against. Hears Brad huff as his hand continues up, over the hem of his boxers, moving with intent before being grabbed around the wrist and firmly redirected to more neutral territory.

“Oh come on,” he grumbles, tossing the magazine onto the coffee table and rolling onto his back to look up at Brad, who is currently absorbed in what looks like the latest issue of dumb accounting quarterly. Feels a stab of annoyance - apparently it _is_ possible to get new issues of shit up here, when you’re the one in charge of that sort of thing.

“You know the purpose of this evening,” Brad chides, eyes still roaming over the pages, free hand returning to scratching slow, familiar circles into Taako’s scalp, “and it’s not to have sex.”

“Come oooon,” he whines, pouting and looking up at Brad through his lashes, “who knows how much longer I’ve got. I wanna get fucked as many times as I can before it happens.”

Taako can feel Brad tense under him. He dog ears the page he’s reading before setting the magazine down neatly on the arm of the couch.

“Sit up.”

Taako levers himself up, twisting around until he's kneeling opposite the orc.

“What do you mean by that,” Brad asks deliberately, clearly working to keep his voice even.

“I mean - it was a joke.” Taako shrugs. “Kind of. It’s - it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? The Director’s about to send us back out.”

It seems whatever Brad was expecting him to say, it wasn’t that. Something in his expression shifts minutely, something so subtle that Taako probably wouldn’t have caught it a few weeks ago. Before he can properly register it, before he can spend too much time wondering what Brad _thought_ he meant, Brad’s rearranged his features, retreating back into his professional facade.

“There’s not been any official announcement on a new reclaimer assignment.”

Taako can feel the frustration flare - he knows Brad can see the writing on the wall as clear as he can. He receives the training schedules, has adjusted their own sessions to account for the extra practices and extended hours. Shit, Taako has seen the equipment requisition forms and per diem requests on Brad’s desk as he’s being fucked over it.

“Don’t play dumb, Bradson,” he snips. “We both know I’m right.”

“Be that as it may,” Brad counters, giving him a look that Taako can’t fully decipher, “that doesn’t change the circumstances tonight.”

There’s a pause, and Taako notes that Brad keeps staring at him, doesn’t turn to continue reading. He can’t fully suppress the smirk - he has Brad’s full attention now, has been doing this long enough that he’s sure he can get what he wants if he plays his cards right. And after weeks of having orders barked at him from sunup to sundown, he’s not in a particularly obedient mood anyway.

He leans forward, looping his arms around Brad’s neck, hoisting himself into his lap.

“What if i do all the work?” he asks, voice low, hips rolling forward, trying to close the distance. But Brad plants two large hands on his waist, stilling him, running thumbs over the angle of his hips.

“Going to take the lead, are you? Give me instructions?” Brad asks, condescension edging his question, though he doesn’t move to shift out from under the elf. “You know that isn’t how this works.”

“Please,” Taako scoffs, toeing the line of bratty misbehaviour that he knows Brad can rarely resist punishing him for crossing, “I know what noises to make to get you -”

He’s cut off, abruptly, as Brad spreads his legs wide. Taako lets out a slight _hup_ as he catches his balance, skirt fluttering around his knees, leaving him straddling one muscular thigh, nothing but a thin layer of cotton separating skin from his already stiffening cock.

“Go on then,” Brad grins, something rapacious dancing around his features. “Do it, I dare you.”

Taako isn’t stupid. This is clearly a trap, but he’s horny, and - if he’s being honest with himself - he hadn’t been lying earlier. He knows it’s only a matter of time again before he’ll be sent out, for who knows how long. That every new relic recovered brings him one step closer to the end of all of this. That soon enough there won’t be a Bureau anymore; nor will there be this arrangement of convenience.

It’s too much to consider, to parse, right now, so instead he unlinks his hands, running his palms over Brad’s shoulders down the soft fabric of the t-shirt stretched over his ludicrously broad chest, letting his hips buck forward of their own accord.

He moves to hitch his thumbs over the waistband of Brad’s boxers when Brad grabs him, quickly, looping one enormous hand around both of Taako’s wrists. He barely has time to react before his arms are wrenched up, over his head, as Brad’s other hand circles his throat. A strangled little moan escapes him, and Brad uses the opportunity to slip his middle and ring finger up and into Taako’s mouth.

“Oh no,” he chides, mocking, pulling Taako’s arms higher above his head, to the point that they’re just beginning to strain. “You started this yourself, pet, and you’re going to have to finish it that way too.”

Taako groans around the fingers in his mouth as he lets his hips twitch forward, and the friction is all at once too much and not enough to relieve the burn in his gut and the ache in his cock. There’s a pathetic, high little whine eeking out of him as he finds his pace, grinding forward in stuttering, desperate thrusts.

Brad leans in, growling a “ _quiet_ ” in his ear, and tightening his grip slightly and drawing out a low, throaty moan.

Taako’s arms are screaming now, pulled taught over his head, and it’s one of too many senses, overloading him, pulling him undone. He laves at the fingers muting the wimpers still working their way up the back of his throat as he grinds helplessly against Brad’s leg. He tries to speak, instinctively, the words muffled, a thin line of spit creeping out of the corner of his mouth.

“Sloppy,” Brad frowns, all mock admonishment. “Very sloppy.” Still, he removes his fingers from Taako’s mouth, letting his hand slide around to the back of Taako’s neck, pulling him close, increasing the pressure as Taako continues to rut against him.

“Fuck, Brad, please,” he whines, eyes screwed shut, panting and desperate. “Please, touch me I’m so fucking close, I -”

“Oh, but that wasn’t the arrangement.”

“Gods I know - I just -” Taako swallows, hard. He’s riding Brad at a furious pace, but it isn’t enough, with the thin layer of fabric muting the sensation. The desperation clouds his head and before he can stop himself he’s asking - _begging_ \- for it. “Touch them. Fucking. Touch them, please.”

Brad grins in earnest then, a mean, delighted little smile. A nearly polite “ _if you insist,”_ whispered low and close as he runs the hand gripping the base of Taako’s skull up his neck, over his jaw, letting his claws drag a sharp line up one of his ears. Even though he’s expecting it, it sends a jolt down his spine, tipping him over the edge as he comes hard against Brad’s thigh.

He’s vaguely aware of his arms falling heavily to his sides as Brad releases him. Lets him tilt forward, ragdoll limp, panting through the aftershocks of his orgasm, his head braced against Brad’s sternum. He’s acutely aware of the cum rapidly cooling in his panties and on his skirt, and nudges forward, wordless, trying to prod Brad into action.

“What is it?”

"Make with the prestidigitation,” he mumbles, ready to fall back onto the couch, boneless. To close his eyes and have his head pet and to drift off into a lazy, comfortable doze. Instead, he chokes on a moan and at jumps at the sharp, hot spike in his gut as Brad yanks at an ear.

He glares up at the orc smiling down at him placidly.

"What?" Brad grins, teasing, a real smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Just making sure I follow all your instructions."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Goose for the beta, and RQT for an extremely good prompt.
> 
> Falls sometime after [Into Your Arms I'll Fall](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13240599/chapters/30286716) and ahead of what comes after this chaptered interlude.


End file.
